Break My Fall
by Flygirl wannabe
Summary: After the events of 'More Than Bargained For,' complications and political inquiry rise, as the team must pull together to help one of their own. Maybe some hints of Tiva. Ziva-centric.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: This is the sequel to my first story 'More Than Bargained For.' It directly picks up the storyline from there, so I'd recommend reading that one first. Sorry, in advance for beating up on Ziva and the team a little more. Enjoy!

Break My Fall

Chapter 1

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo walked deliberately over to NCIS' "Most Wanted" wall. He briefly looked over the faces he knew so well, criminals and terrorists all. On the far end of the wall, Tony affixed a new photo with masking tape; along the bottom he had scrawled "Nigel."

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs leaned on the balcony railing, his standard Starbucks coffee in hand, studying his agents. The Sunday was almost done, the sun already having gone down. Earlier in the day, he'd sent McGee and Tony to Major Lincoln's apartment to see if there was anything of note there. Everything seemed to have been in order there. The Major's workplace was no longer viable, seeing as the whole building had been demolished. They were still awaiting the autopsy from Ducky and really had no new leads yet. So now, the team was working two cases simultaneously: Lincoln's and Nigel's. Not that they had much to go on for either one. Right now, it was only Gibbs' famous gut that said they were connected at all.

McGee was typing madly on his keyboard, several programs running in the background. One was a facial recognition program, running Nigel's face against every database available. The young agent kept looking up every few minutes to cast worried glances at his companions. Tony was leaned back in his chair, attempting to accomplish something on his own computer. Mostly though, he was looking at Ziva, concern and worry etched across his face. There was none of the teasing or easy banter that usually existed between them. There was a stillness in the air that seemed as if it could be upset by a pin drop.

Gibbs took more time to study the lone female member of his team. In short, she looked like shit. A sling and cast encased her left arm, a brace on the right leg, a crutch discarded at the back of her cubicle. Even from the balcony, Gibbs could see the break in skin and slight dent in her nose where it was broken; blood in her right eye from a fractured cheekbone. Gibbs knew there to be more injuries, the worst of which were probably not physical. If asked how she was, the response would most likely be a curt "fine" and a redirect. Looking closer, Gibbs could see pain lines on Ziva's face and her jaw clenching and unclenching, almost unnoticeably if he wasn't looking for it. She looked exhausted and was no doubt not taking any of the pain medication prescribed to her. If he had to guess, she was punishing herself for the events of the previous day. He had an idea, somewhat, of the guilt and blame she was probably putting on herself in that brain of hers.

The older man took a long pull of his Marine-grade coffee and noticed Tony looking up at him. The look on Tony's face spoke volumes to the team leader. Gibbs' team was bent, but not yet broken, if they could keep their Mossad Liaison Officer from self-destructing. She was drawing within herself, shame and self-hatred eating at her very soul.

It would be a long road back to normalcy. If nothing else, the fact that Tony was able to just watch Ziva openly, with no comment or her sneaking up on him, was enough to worry Gibbs to no end. He'd never seen her not bounce back.

One last sip from the coffee and he stood back from the railing. He would need to prepare her for what was to come. This would not die down easily. At the very least, an internal investigation was in store. It would not go well for Ziva if she didn't stop blaming herself completely for yesterday's events. Gibbs tossed his empty coffee cup in the trash; there was no time like the present to do what needed to be done if he wanted to keep his team together and time was in short supply.

* * *

Two heads shot up simultaneously as Gibbs marched into the bullpen; Ziva's came up a little slower and she did not meet his gaze. Without a word, the senior agent pointed at Ziva and indicated that she should follow him. Not waiting for her, he strode over to the elevator and jabbed the call button.

Soon enough, the squek of Ziva's underarm crutch indicated her progress toward Gibb's position. He didn't even spare her a glance, instead choosing to stare at the ceiling and the far wall.

The elevator dinged; the door opening to reveal an NCIS agent leaned against the back wall. A glare from Gibbs sent the young man scurrying out onto the main floor. Gibbs marched into the now-empty elevator, Ziva limping in behind him. The doors closed ominously; Gibbs pulled the Emergency Stop button almost immediately.

He silently looked over Mossad Officer Ziva David. She appeared more the worse for wear than Gibbs' original observation from the balcony. She was leaned bodily against the opposite wall of the elevator, shoulders slumped, hooded eyes downcast. It was as if her whole body had lost all spark of life upon entering the elevator. Ziva's black hair looked unkempt and put up hastily, strands loose here and there. The bags under her eyes told him she hadn't slept much, if at all, the previous night. The bruises and cuts that marred Ziva's face were even more pronounced by the pallor of her skin. She probably hadn't eaten anything since breakfast of the day before and now it was late evening. Normally, she was an excellent cook and he knew she enjoyed cooking meals for herself. But based on her mismatched socks, she had left her apartment in a hurry, most likely as a result of Nigel's message to her on the answering machine. In fact, he recognized the loose cargo pants and olive-drab t-shirt as an outfit she had worn earlier in the week. No doubt she'd grabbed them off the floor of her apartment to at least be rid of the hospital scrubs before hastily exiting the premises of her spacious apartment.

Gibbs had never seen Ziva look so lost and broken, which is why he steeled himself for what he was about to do to her. He wished he could just hold her, as a father would. But he needed her to get her fire back and soon. With the storm he knew to be coming, probably at daybreak the next morning, he could not gently comfort her and whisper that everything would be alright. He just prayed his plan would not backfire and that she might someday forgive him for this.

"What the hell did you unleash on this office? Do you know what kind of damage you've caused?" Gibbs started, becoming more emphatic with each word he spoke.

"I am sorry, Gibbs," Ziva responded meekly, still not meeting his steely gaze.

"'You're sorry,' that's really all you have to say for yourself," he said sarcastically. "You've gotta be kidding me!" Stepping menacingly towards her now, "You _let_ some stranger into your bed and straight into NCIS." Ziva's breath hitched, a single tear made tracks sadly down her face. Gibbs had to press on now or risk leaving Ziva more broken than before. "You're a disgrace to NCIS and Mossad! Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He shoved her hard against the unforgiving metal of the elevator.

A muffled whimper escaped from Ziva's lips, as white-hot agony ripped through her body. Gibbs' heart broke at the sound, but the effect was instantaneous. Ziva's deep brown eyes locked onto his and he could read the primal fury and pain barely contained there. One more button to push.

"You whore," Gibbs breathed out vehemently, as he towered threateningly over the smaller woman. "I hope the sex was really good because you've compromised this entire agency because you couldn't keep your damned legs _closed_!"

_Whack!_ Gibbs' vision darkened, as he found himself on the floor of the elevator.

"You self-righteous bastard!" Ziva ground out between gasps of breath, her whole body shaking.

Gibbs touched a hand tentatively to his check and came away with a smear of blood. Even beat to shit, she still had one hell of a right hook. He picked himself up off the floor, gingerly tested his jaw, and heatedly jabbed the Emergency Stop button back in. The doors obediently opened; Gibbs marched out of the elevator and prayed that that was worth it.

* * *

A/N: Review please! I'm always looking for some feedback. I will be moving in the next few days, but once I get my internet connection back next week, I'll post the next chapter.-Flygirl.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I moved into my new place and finally have an internet connection again. Yay! Anyway, here is the second chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I hope Ziva doesn't seem too out of character, but she can't be tough all the time (at least that's what I think). There's a little more Tony in this chapter.

* * *

The doors slid shut after Gibbs' exit. Ziva barely managed to pull the Emergency Stop before collapsing. On top of the blood loss from being shot, Ziva hadn't slept or eaten anything in almost 48 hours. The last few minutes with Gibbs were pushing her over the edge. The Mossad Officer's legs buckled beneath her and her breath came in rapid, shallow breaths. She had never hyperventilated before in her life, but all of her hard-earned control was escaping her now. She clutched frantically at her chest, as if that might somehow save her. Her vision gradually blackened from the edges in. Finally, her body succumbed to her distress, as her entire body went slack and she landed in an ungraceful heap in the center of the elevator floor.

* * *

Tony look up from his desk to see Gibbs exit the elevator and the doors close with no Ziva. The shouting had been hard to ignore, even though he had been unable to decipher the words exchanged. DiNozzo noticed the blood on Gibbs' cheek and shot a quick cursory look to Tim McGee, who returned his bewildered expression.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had never had so much trouble controlling his emotions. His whole being was in turmoil. He wanted nothing more than to run back to Ziva, comfort her, and tell her he didn't mean any of what was said. Instead, he schooled his features to a callous air and casually walked over to DiNozzo's desk. He set a small elevator override key in front of the young man, effectively passing the torch of looking out for Ziva to Tony.

"Boss?" Tony questioned, before he looked at what lay in front of him and realization dawned on him. Gibbs walked over to his own desk without a word, trusting that Tony had got the message.

* * *

With hesitation, Tony inserted the fireman's override key into the slot beneath the elevator call button. He was ill-prepared for the sight that met him. Ziva lay crumpled, unconscious on the floor of the elevator.

"Goddamn it, Gibbs," the agent whispered under his breath. At least Ziva looked more peaceful than she had in the previous hours. Her face no longer held the pain and self-loathing that Tony had observed throughout the day.

He could put two and two together: the muffled shouting and Gibbs' rapidly swelling face. Tony hoped that whatever had really gone on did the trick to pull Ziva out of her depression and self-reproach.

He hit speed-dial 5 for Ducky, as he restarted the elevator. At the very least, Gibbs seemed to have pissed-off Ziva enough for her to sock him in the face. He'd been on the receiving end of one of her punches before and figured the only reason Gibbs was not laid out, unconscious and drooling was that Ziva wasn't even close to being at her full strength. As the elevator began its descent to Ducky's morgue, Tony rolled Ziva into a more comfortable position and moved an errant lock of hair out of Ziva's beautiful face. He hated seeing her so vulnerable and he wished he could take her pain away. Tony passed a soft hand over her forehead and chuckled a little. One thing Leroy Jethro Gibbs was especially good at, Tony mused, was seriously pissing off the women in his life.

* * *

"…alright, Ducky, all I'm saying is, it looks bad is all." Tony's soft voice reached Ziva's ears. She feigned continued sleep; not a hard task with the way her body felt, which was sluggish and unresponsive.

Doctor Donald Mallard's British accent was unmistakable. "Well, they certainly can't hold Ziva responsible, she was drugged."

"Huh, well, they're certainly going to try their damnedest. SecNav's bringing in Assistant Director Patrick Mulroney to do the investigation. Rumor has it that he's after Jenny's job. Ziva's a foreign operative brought into NCIS specifically by Director Shepard. Connect the dots, Ducky. The truth won't really matter to him."

Ziva's eavesdropping ended abruptly when a soft moan escaped her lips. Whatever Doctor Mallard had given her was wearing off; the fog that had settled over her brain was dissipating and her whole body began aching again. She opened her eyes slowly to find herself on a pull-out cot in Ducky's office, two sets of concerned eyes watching her intently.

"Ah, Ziva, my dear, you're awake. I was afraid I'd given you too much pain medication. Natural sleep is always better you know. That reminds me of a time in medical school when I gave too much sedative to a young pig named Billy. The poor thing was out for two days." The look on Ziva's face told the good doctor that she didn't much care about Billy the Pig or how he came to be sedated. "Anthony, why don't you give us some privacy, so I may assist Ziva in changing into a clean set of clothing."

Ziva started to sit up, but gave out a soft cry at an unexpected pain. She looked down at her right hand, which had swollen slightly. She gave it a quizzical look before remembering and her expression darkened. All of the pain and anger came flooding back and damn, Gibbs had a hard head.

"Ducky, I've been dressing myself for well over twenty-five years now; I think I can handle it myself," she said rudely. Tony quietly exited the office, not wanting to fight with Ziva.

Thankfully, the kindly doctor seemed to have patience and calm in ample supply. "Ziva, I must insist. Besides, I need to re-bandage that leg of yours, since you've somehow managed to tear half your stitches." Ducky's reproving glare sealed Ziva's fate. With a sigh, she relented to the care of the old medical examiner. "Good now that that's settled. Swallow these," he handed her two small tablets. "It'll help with the pain."

Twenty minutes later, Ducky was helping Ziva pull one of Abby's "DeathHead" t-shirts on, when a commotion outside broke the silence.

Tony's raised voice was easily heard from the other side of the door. "Hey, you can't go in there." Moments later, the door burst open and three grim-faced men entered. Ziva quickly slid her right arm into the t-shirt and pulled it on the rest of the way.

"Ms. David," one of the men pronounced her name wrong. "You're to come with us." Another of the men grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Ziva paled slightly, as the sudden change to her elevation caused her to sway. She resisted the urge to try to knock the man on his ass.

"Under whose authority?" Ducky demanded.

"Assistant Director Patrick Mulroney and the Patriot Act."

* * *

Please leave a review! More to come soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tony ran a hand through his hair as he pulled out his cell phone, dialing his boss immediately after Ziva had been hauled off. He didn't have to wait long.

"DiNozzo, what the hell? It's three in the goddamn morning," Gibbs' crotchety voice came over the line.

Tony's frantic tone silenced anything else Gibbs might say, "Boss, Ziva's been taken to interrogation under the Patriot Act. It's Patrick Mulroney's doing."

Gibbs sat up, more alert, "Shit, I thought they wouldn't show up until later."

"What? We gotta do something, boss!"

"You think I don't know that, DiNozzo!" Gibbs ripped the young man's head off, before he turned to a softer tone, "Look, Tony we're going to do all we can, but legally the ball is in Mulroney's court right now. There's nothing we can do at the moment. Just…get some sleep for now; they probably won't interrogate her until later. This was just for shock-factor."

"Yeah, boss, I'll try," Tony agreed, even though both men knew neither of them were likely to get any more rest in what remained of the early morning.

* * *

Ziva curled her toes against the cool floor for the umpteenth time that hour. She and Ducky had not quite made it to the shoes and socks part of dressing. The men who had nabbed her in the middle of the night had not even allowed her to put her leg brace back on; no sling or crutch either. They'd just hauled her up by the arm, leaving a mark no doubt. Though she supposed a few more bruises really didn't matter that much compared to how the rest of her body looked anyhow. Thankfully, Ducky had done a marvelous job re-stitching and bandaging the wound, that she'd been able to march up to interrogation mostly under her own power and not start bleeding all over the place again. She'd never had so much fight simply drained out of her before and she'd simply allowed herself to be led off.

By her estimation, she'd been waiting for something to happen for several hours now. As interrogation tactics went, it was fairly basic and one she had used herself on several past occasions. The silence bothered some people, but in her case, it gave her time to process the events of the last few hours.

When she had woken up, Ziva had been ready to kill Gibbs, her blood practically boiling. But once some of the hurt and anger came down to a manageable level, she realized why he'd done what he had. Before their confrontation in the elevator, she'd been practically catatonic with guilt. NCIS had been infiltrated, the Naval Intelligence building destroyed, lives lost, solely she thought because of her selfish actions of a few months previous. She had been ready to fall on her sword and would have done so without protest. Gibbs had done something she'd never expected him to do and it had made her react in a purely instinctual way. If her father had taught her one lesson, it was to fight when attacked. Gibbs had simply reminded her of that and also showed her a small taste of what was bound to come.

* * *

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had never been more furious in his entire career. Ziva had been snatched from Ducky's office around 3 am and had been left unattended in Interrogation Room 2 ever since. It was now after 2 pm and no one was listening to his protests. At the very least, Ziva needed continued medical care, especially since she hadn't been taking care of herself for the past two days.

The team's bullpen had been raided shortly after Patrick Mulroney and his group of San Diego field agents had arrived. Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee now resided in the common room next to the vending machines, which Tony seemed to be beating at random intervals. As they'd been herded out like cattle, Ziva's desk and computer were being dumped. An early morning phone call from one of Ziva's elderly neighbors had informed him that her apartment was currently being raided as well; all actions legal under the Patriot Act. Ziva's personal and professional lives were being torn to shreds and examined in every minute detail. Gibbs was worried for her. She had her Mossad training, but this latest attack had been personal and she was already close to breaking without Mulroney and his team's arrival. What hurt him worse was that he could do nothing to directly help her and this game being played was bigger than any of them realized. Gibbs stopped his musings when Tony started to attack another vending machine, this time almost putting his hand through the glass. If this didn't end well, Gibbs might lose another good agent.

Director Shepard had come down earlier from MTAC to inform Gibbs that Ziva's checking herself out of the hospital two nights ago had been enough for Mulroney to proceed with his witch hunt, including interrogating Ziva. Flaunting the Patriot Act and his special appointment by the SecNav, Patrick Mulroney had virtual autonomy at NCIS Headquarters. Ziva had been denied an attorney and as she wasn't a US citizen, her civil liberties were now non-existent. Jenny had been hoping her personal friendship with the SecNav might have helped Ziva's situation, but her calls to his office were being screened. All other favors owed to Jenny seemed to dematerialize right before her eyes, as no one in Washington wanted to become entangled in the events unfolding at the Navy Yard. Political maneuvering was afoot and Jenny appeared to have none of the power. She needed something she could physically take to the SecNav to stop this madness; Gibbs and his team were just the people to find it.

* * *

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, but real life got in the way. Please send a review! I should get the next chapter up by the end of the weekend. - Flygirl.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, sorry that I took forever to post this chapter. My computer had crapped out on me back in August and real life also got in the way. I had the latest review alert lurking in my email inbox, reminding me to update. Without further ado, here's chapter four of Break My Fall.

* * *

Chapter 4

Normally, Ziva was on the other side of the table. Now facing the glass window, she had no idea who was behind it in the observation room. For awhile, she had supposed maybe no one based on how long she had been sitting there. She hadn't moved from the stiff-backed chair she'd been placed in. The most she had done was to make slight movements of her arms and legs to keep up the circulation of blood.

Ziva's bare feet had long ago gone numb from the cold floor, as well as the room temperature having been significantly lowered. Her teeth had started lightly chattering not long after. Ducky's wondrous little pills had worn off hours ago; now every shiver radiated pain throughout her body. Her stomach was sending out hunger pangs and she couldn't remember a time when she had felt so miserable and weak. The only thing keeping her conscious was the random spasms of pain coming from her broken arm, which hung limply in her lap. After awhile, though, the pain came down to a bearable level and her need for sleep took over; chin finally hit her chest, her eyelids sliding shut.

_Thwap!_ A stack of file folders landed on the desk in front of her. She jumped up slightly and Ziva couldn't suppress the groan that rose from her throat, as her eyes snapped open. The warmth of adrenaline spread through her and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. A thin, bookish-looking man of about forty was making himself comfortable across from her. Ignoring her, he carefully laid out his folders, opening some and closing others. A glass of water at the corner of the table made her involuntarily lick her lips. She had to remind herself that no matter how uncomfortable she may be, she was in America after all, and at least they did not have a habit of allowing people to die during interrogations.

The little red light on the camera, high in a corner of the gray room, flickered on, indicating it was now recording. Someone was behind that glass and had been waiting for this moment. Their interrogation tactics would have been laughable had they not been working perfectly given her already deteriorated state.

Thankfully, the adrenaline had sharpened her mind and warmed her body some. Unfortunately, the man was appearing to be busy, letting the effects wear off before he began his questioning. She would need to maintain her focus somehow. As Tony might say, "Let the games begin."

* * *

After things had calmed down a few hours after Mulroney's 'hostile takeover' of NCIS Headquarters, Director Shepard appropriated a couple of laptops for the team to work with. Soon DiNozzo and McGee were busy chasing down any information they could find on Nigel and, at Gibbs' insistence, the deceased Major Lincoln. Gibbs did not believe in coincidences; Lincoln and the events of the last days were definitely related somehow.

About fifteen minutes after their San Diego 'escorts' had left them, content that they would remain in the common area, Gibbs' cell phone began to vibrate. Cautiously looking around and seeing no one, he pulled the device out of his pocket. A picture of Abby, which she had programmed into his phone, greeted him.

"Yeah, Abs."

"Oh, my God, Gibbs, I saw you guys were finally free of the goons. You guys need to sneak down to my lab right now. Ziva's in trouble."

* * *

"Where's Gibbs?" Abby whined as soon as she saw Timmy and Tony minus their fearless leader; her brow furrowed in consternation. A few moments later, the man in question appeared, Caf-Pow in hand.

Abby's mood brightened immediately, "For me?" She shot the older man one of her best 'innocent' smiles.

Gibbs held the drink behind his back, "What've you got Abs?"

The spunky lab scientist pouted a little before turning serious once again. "Lock the door, McGee." The young agent willingly obliged and soon the team followed Abby to her set of three computer screens in center of the lab. With a few taps the black on the center screen was replaced with a live feed of Interrogation Room 2. Ziva sat prominently in the center of the screen, across from a wiry man none of them recognized. Gibbs distractedly handed off the Caf-Pow into Abby's waiting hands, his eyes instantly glued to the screen.

The goth slurped happily on her caffeine-charged drink and noticed McGee's slack jawed expression. She gently put his chin back in its proper place, while he tried to blink off his shock. "After that fiasco a few years ago with Tony, I kinda installed a back-door into the formerly-secure interrogation system network," Abby stated innocently. She tensed, expecting some sort of backlash, but was surprised to have Gibbs kiss her cheek and gruffly ask her to turn up the volume. Tony gave her a big bear-hug, whispering, "Good work, Abby," in her ear.

Turning up the volume, Abby explained, "This camera has been on and taping since a little after 1 pm. Mulroney's little minions have been walking in and out of here all day, so I've just been recording everything in the background. I guess they're all 9-to-5ers, 'cuz they all left in like perfect unison about thirty minutes ago."

Gibbs glanced at his watch: 17:25. By his estimation, Ziva had been sequestered in Interrogation Room 2 well over twelve hours ago. She looked exhausted, as if merely staying conscious were one of the hardest things in the world. Her body was shivering faintly, her face quavering slightly from chattering teeth, despite how she tried to hide it. Looking at her eyes, though, Gibbs could tell that she was seriously pissed off at the man sitting across from her.

"So you deny a relationship with the terrorist known as 'Nigel?'"

"I do not have a relationship with Nigel."

He laid out some sheets of paper onto the table; security logs. "Your signature was used to sign in a 'Nigel Smith' to the Navy Yard. A few minutes later, your iris scan was used for him to enter NCIS Headquarters, yet you deny a relationship?" The man paused for effect. "Explain why you were photographed inside and then leaving The Dublin House bar with Nigel on the night of August 15th." He slammed down several 8'x10' photos clearly showing Ziva and Nigel together, smiling, laughing, her on his arm. The slight widening of her eyes expressed her shock. "Would you like to amend your previous statement?" He asked her sarcastically.

"A one-night stand does not constitute a relationship."

"So you admit to having sexual relations with Nigel?"

The look on her face told the onlookers that she wished she hadn't said anything at all. Ziva tried to keep her cool. "Yes, but I had been drugged."

"Why is there no record of your being drugged?"

"I did not wish to report it. Dr. Donald Mallard and Special Agent Gibbs can confirm my story."

"Do you make a habit of bringing strange men to your bed?" More photos now on the table, much more intimate than before. The man tensed for a reaction from her, something, anything to say that he was getting to her. Gibbs saw the barely noticeable tightening of her jaw. She probably wanted to leap across the table to strangle the man, but she probably got most of her anger out last night at the expense of Gibbs' face. Now she was trying to play the cool, collected Mossad operative.

Calmly, almost deadpan, "No, I do not."

The man was clearly disappointed with their conversation so far. "Would you agree that your actions allowed NCIS Headquarters to be compromised two days ago? Your relationship, your signature, your retinal scan; you connect the dots." No response from Ziva. "Did you reveal any confidential information during your 'liaise' with Nigel? Is that when you planned the attack on the Navy Yard?"

Ziva's blood was practically boiling, but outwardly she appeared cool and collected. "I did not."

"If you were drugged, as you say, how do you know what you did or did not say?" Silence. Feeling that his point had been proven, he moved on, "Are you affiliated with the terrorist Abdul-Bari Hassan?"

"No, I am not affiliated with such a person."

The man laid out some photos of this man Hassan, alongside Ziva, in what was obviously Baghdad. "Was he not your contact during your operations in Iraq?"

Exasperated, "That was many years ago. He was my contact, but he was not a terrorist then, he was a freedom fighter, against Saddam."

"So you are affiliated with the terrorist Abdul-Bari Hassan?"

Ziva remained silent.

"Have you maintained contact with Hassan?"

Ziva tensed. More recent photos were tossed in front of her. "Why ask when you know I have?"

"So you willingly affiliate with terrorists?" He paused, thoughtfully, before moving on. "Were you Ari Haswari's control officer?"

Ziva's tired voice came over the speakers, "We have been under this before."

"'Over', Ziva. It's 'over.'" Tony whispered to the screen.

"Please answer the question, Miss David," the man pronounced her name wrong.

"Yes. I was Ari Haswari's control officer."

"Did Haswari assassinate NCIS Special Agent Caitlin Todd?"

"Yes."

"Did you assist in planning her assassination?"

"No, I did not."

"But you were Ari Haswari's control officer during the time period that Agent Todd was killed?"

"I was."

"Weren't you responsible for the actions he took as a field operative?"

Ziva paused, hesitant to answer. "Were you responsible for the actions Ari Haswari took while you were his Mossad control officer?"

"I was not responsible for the actions he took as a rogue operative."

"Was Ari Haswari in the United States at the behest of the Mossad?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss current or past Mossad operations."

"Was Caitlin Todd's assassination planned by the Mossad, as a means for you to infiltrate NCIS?"

"I am not at liberty to…"

"Yes, you are not at liberty to discuss it. Did you suspect Ari Haswari of being a terrorist?"

"No, I did not." When Gibbs looked closely at Ziva, he could tell that she was barely staying awake, each question taking longer than the last to answer. Every few moments, he would see her clench her injured right hand that she bruised on his face. Small pain lines would appear at the corner of her eyes, but were unnoticeable to the untrained eye. He figured she was using the pain to keep herself conscious.

"Did you mourn Ari Haswari's death at the hands of Special Agent Gibbs?"

A flicker of emotion passed across her face. "I do not see how that is relevant."

"Answer the question, Miss David."

"He was my operative." The picture of Ziva, Tali, and Ari when they were young and alive flashed through her mind.

"Yet, you had no idea that he was really a terrorist?"

"I did not know."

"I find that hard to believe, Miss David." She glared at the man, her body starting to tremble more from the cold.

"Did you want revenge against Special Agent Gibbs?"

* * *

Please review and I hope to update soon. - flygirl


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

NCIS Director Jenny Shepard sat in an abandoned MTAC; she had dismissed all of the techs and agents from the room several minutes prior. Mossad Director Eli David's less-than-pleased face was filling the screen.

"Director Shepard, when I arrived at work this morning, I found this on my desk." He held a bloodied .40 S&W bullet in a plastic evidence bag. "Explain to me why it's covered with Ziva's blood." His accent was thick and if Jenny listened for it, she could almost hear the concerned father in his voice.

Over the next quarter hour, Jenny explained the events of the last few days, including how Ziva came to be injured. Eli David's face looked more displeased by the minute.

"Where is Ziva now?"

Jenny grimaced slightly before answering, "Interrogation Room 2, being questioned by agents brought in from San Diego." A quiet stream of expletives in Hebrew and English exploded from the older man. After a moment, he appeared to regain control of himself. "I'm sorry Eli, it was out of my hands."

"I trust that you have done all within your power to protect my daughter. Now, perhaps, I can help you as well."

* * *

When Jenny arrived at Abby's lab, she found the door closed; an unusual occurrence in itself. To find it locked, was even more extraordinary. She knocked on the metal door, the sound echoing through the hallway.

A shuffling of feet, then Abby Sciuto's voice, "Uh, can't open the door right now. Serious bio-hazard in here right now."

"Abby, it's Director Shepard. Let me in." Her voice brooked no argument and soon bolts were sliding back.

Abby's smiling face greeted the agency director, "Madame Director," she said enthusiastically, swinging the door wide open, "welcome to my humble lab."

"Bio-hazard, Abby?" The director said sardonically, as she stepped into the lab. "And don't call me 'Madame.'"

"Well, it was better than 'Secret Rescue-Ziva Society, Meeting In-progress,'" she said as she re-locked the door. Jenny took in Abby's center monitor, which was currently displaying Interrogation Room 2, making a note to discuss that with the Goth once this whole debacle was over. Tim and Tony were working on something in one of the corners of the lab, looking up as she entered. Even Ducky and Jimmy Palmer were there, she noted, while she made a beeline for Gibbs.

Clearing a space on the main table, Jenny waited for the assembled group to gather round before sharing her news. The red-head set a thick manila file down, deftly flipping it open. "Meet Abrahem Ben-Gurion," she stated, as everyone in the room took in the photo paperclipped to the left side of the folder; a younger Nigel looked back at them. "Former Mossad, former Kidon. Went off the grid in '05, reappearing briefly in London, before disappearing again. Needless to say, we have Eli David's support in this and Mossad is searching the world over for Ben-Gurion."

Gibbs next words hit everyone like a ton of bricks, "Good. Let them find Ben-Gurion."

"What?" Jenny demanded. "You're just giving up?" She sent him an incredulous look, which was mirrored by almost everyone in the room. Poor Jimmy Palmer just looked bewildered at this turn of events.

"Mossad has a leak." Gibbs stated what was obvious to him. Looking around the room, he realized not everyone had made the same leap that he had. He sighed; he hated having to explain these things to other people. "The photographs? Of her and Ben-Gurion, where did those come from? And all of her Mossad missions? That's not general knowledge. There has to be a leak in Mossad. That's the only explanation."

"Wait a minute. Start from the beginning." Jenny asked. Gibbs proceeded to fill her in on the events of the last few hours.

* * *

Several hours and Caf-Pows later found the team still gathered in Abby's lab, Ziva's interrogation still going on in the background. Around 8 pm, Tony and McGee had managed to pilfer Ziva's phone and personal computer from the evidence locker. The female attendant having a raging crush on young Timothy McGee hadn't hurt their chances of getting what they wanted. Three hours later Abby was still happily disassembling Ziva's phone when she found it: a small GPS transmitter, so tiny that you would have to have been looking for it to notice it. The young Goth's squeal of delight served to wake up the rest of the team, who had been resting while they could, each rising from the various places they had claimed throughout the lab.

"Sleep well, McDrooler?" Tony ribbed the younger man, as each of the agents tried to shake of their tiredness.

"Huh," McGee looked down at his shirt, the left side of which was stained dark and moist. He attempted to wipe it away before deciding that he really didn't care and turned his attention to yawning instead. Gibbs walked up, took one look at the shirt before rolling his eyes and looking at Abby expectantly.

Abby held up the small transmitter between forceps so everyone could see. "GPS tracking device." The smile on her face indicated how pleased she was with herself at the find. "Israeli in origin, I believe, and still transmitting."

"How do you know it's Israeli?" McGee asked, trying to stifle another yawn.

She gave him one of her patented, 'Really, you doubt me' looks before answering. "Um, Timmy, the small Hebrew lettering was my first clue."

"You read Hebrew?"

A light head-slap from Gibbs, "Stay on task. Abby, can you trace wherever that signal is going?"

"Sorry, Gibbs. It's wireless. Anyone with the proper transceiver could track it. The signal isn't very strong, though, so whoever's tracking it would have to be within about a two-mile radius maximum to follow it." Abby's expression turned happy once again, as a Caf-Pow materialized in Gibbs' hand. She reached for the highly-caffeinated drink, but he pulled it slightly out of her reach.

"Is there any way we can pick up on who is receiving the signal, if they're within that two-mile radius?"

"I can try Gibbs. This is pretty old technology. Whoever's using it either doesn't have access to more sophisticated methods of tracking someone or is trying to stay off the radar by avoiding tracing her cell phone directly. Give me a few hours to put something together." He placed the Caf-Pow into her waiting hands.

As Gibbs walked off, Tony still had a confused look on his face. "Where did that Caf-Pow come from?"

* * *

Tony was sure Ziva would have tried harder to hide the exhaustion she was feeling if she had known that the team had a live feed into the interrogation room she was being held in. Currently, she was still being interrogated along the same lines: Haswari, Kate, Mossad missions, Nigel, etc. Her body looked tense and her eyes lacked the vitality that was normally ever-present. She just looked mentally and physically exhausted, something that Tony had never seen in her before. She also looked a little bored, too, if Tony really thought about it. She'd been parroting the same useless answers for almost half a day now. But still, much of her life had just been laid bare in the previous hours and it had certainly taken its toll. Whether she admitted it or not, Tony also knew she was in pain. No one just had their arm broken and got shot and was fine the next day.

Abby and McGee were doing their techno-geek things, while Gibbs was off doing God-knows-what. He was left with nothing else to do besides watch Ziva on one of Abby's monitors, his heart breaking with the knowledge that he couldn't help her right now. The events of the last few days were beyond his understanding and he was still trying to put the pieces all together into some sort of sense. All he really knew was that he had failed her. They were partners and whether or not she thought she needed it, it fell to him to watch her back, to protect her. Sometime in the last year, he'd stopped watching out for her, instead sneaking around on his undercover assignment with Jeanne had taken priority. He'd distanced himself from Ziva as he'd gotten closer to Jeanne. But even after that debacle had ended, their relationship didn't go back to normal. And now he was staring at his partner, being questioned in one of their own interrogation rooms no less. Maybe if she had just been able to trust him a little more none of this would have happened. This was all his fault.

The sharp slap of Gibbs' hand on the back of his head brought Tony out of his melancholic musings. "Boss, what was that for?" Gibbs just cocked his head a little to the side and gave him a 'really, you can't figure it out' look. Appropriately chastened, Tony sheepishly whispered, "Thanks, Boss."

"Abby, what've you got?" Gibbs barked.

Behind the glass of Interrogation Room 2, Patrick Mulroney watched the verbal chess match drag on. He chewed down on his bottom lip, deep in thought. This was his shot at the director's office and, if it panned out, it would set the ball into motion for greater things to come. Around midnight, he called the interrogator out of the room. It was time to get more aggressive. Officer David's Mossad training be damned, she was still human and everyone had their breaking point. Mulroney had never been a particularly patient man, either. This was his shot and he was done playing nice.

* * *

Just a short chapter, but I wanted to get an update on the site for everyone. I've got a few more chapters mostly done, just need some tweeking, so hopefully I'll get those up soon. Reviews please! - Flygirl


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciated it. Sorry to take so long getting this chapter up, but I was trying to figure out where to go with the next few chapters. I'm also trying to figure out if I want a few more hints at Tiva, or just stick more with friendship. Haven't quite worked that out yet. Anyway, on with the show, here's the next chapter. As always I appreciate any comments you all have. -Flygirl

Chapter 6

Ziva jumped nearly out of her skin at the slamming of the door. Her brief respite broken, as a burly man, maybe six-foot, stormed into the room. She barely made the effort to even look at him. The small wiry man from earlier came in a little more calmly after him. Oh great, this should be fun, Ziva thought wryly.

* * *

"Abby, what've you got?"

"I'm sorry Gibbs. I can't think of any way to track who's picking up this signal. Anyone with an iPhone could pick up the signal the chip is emitting, assuming they were in range."

"Alright, we'll just do this the old-fashioned way."

McGee gave him a confused look. "The old-fashioned way, boss?" Abby and Tony looked equally bewildered.

Gibbs scoffed a little at his team, "Yeah, McGee, counter-surveillance. DiNozzo, get Sara Harrigan's team down here, that Wilson girl could pass as Ziva." They still looked confused. "We're going to lay a trap, find out our mystery photographer." Three heads started nodding simultaneously.

"Oh, why didn't you just say so Gibbs."

"Right, boss."

"Ah, that's a good plan."

_Smack! Crash! _Four sets of eyes snapped up to the center monitor. Ziva was laid out on the floor of the interrogation room, chair on its side behind her, a hand gently probing her face, as a heavy-set man advanced upon her. Soon the man had Ziva back on her feet and had thrown her bodily against the back wall. Ziva's face contorted in pain when his left thumb found the bullet wound on her thigh and ground down. His lips near her ear, he whispered something inaudible to the camera.

"Uh oh," Tony said as a murderous glint entered Ziva's eyes and her face hardened, all traces of exhaustion gone in an instant. The next moment, the big man was on his knees, left hand twisted awkwardly above his head, his other hand protectively over his groin. The thin man behind the table was yelling to someone behind the observation glass. Ziva leaned down to whisper something into the big man's ear, as her tongue flicked out to lick his earlobe provocatively. She was still laughing when the door crashed open, an agent charging at her like a linebacker trying to sack the quarterback. The impact against the floor was hard and Ziva stopped resisting. Two more agents flooded into the room; one helped the now whimpering man off the floor, the other to help physically haul Ziva none-too-gently to the table. The chair was righted and Ziva forced to sit in it, each of her ankles cuffed to a leg of the chair. Her right wrist was slapped into handcuffs, the other end attached to the center of the table.

"DiNozzo, go get Harrigan's team." Gibbs looked over at his senior field agent, who was biting his bottom lip worriedly. Gibbs' voice softened somewhat, "Tony, Harrigan's team."

"Uh, yeah boss, on it."

On the screen, the thin man gave a quick flick of his head toward the door, effectively dismissing the three agents who had restrained Ziva. The other man was still groaning quietly and rubbing his wrist in the corner.

"You're just making things harder on yourself, Miss David. And I don't think Lucco here," indicating the heavier man, "appreciated that last little stunt of yours." He slid a piece of paper across the desk. "You can make this all end, just sign." He tapped the paper for emphasis.

Ziva remained silent, but her expression told her interrogator exactly where she thought he could shove his confession. "Okay, the hard way then." A nod of his head, Lucco's meaty fist connecting with the tender gunshot wound. Taken by surprise, Ziva couldn't contain the cry of pain that escaped her lips. She doubled over, taking a few calming breaths.

Finally lifting her head, she turned to Lucco chuckling, "You are just pissed that I kicked your ass a minute ago." _Crack! _A swift left hook slammed into the side of Ziva's already broken face. Her head lolled forward, unconscious.

Abby cried out in despair, tears welling in her eyes, "Gibbs, what is she doing? Why is she provoking them?"

Because she wants the pain. Because she feels guilty for a great many things that aren't her fault. Gibbs had been there before, especially when Shannon and Kelly had been murdered. Taking one look at Abby crying softly on McGee's shoulder, Gibbs knew a vacation was in order once they got through this shit. Ziva's interrogators had already crossed the line of physically assaulting her, a line he was legally bound not to cross. A really bad feeling clenched in his gut; he was worried how far this interrogation would go. Instead of voicing his thoughts to Abby, though, another idea formed in his mind, "Abs, you are recording this right?"

The young scientist sniffled a little before giving him a slightly skeptical look, "Of course, Gibbs. I've been recording it since they first brought Ziva to interrogation yesterday. In fact," she typed a few commands in the keyboard, "they're not even recording anymore right now in the observation room. I guess Mulroney doesn't want the evidence of what a bastard he really is."

* * *

Ziva jerked back to consciousness as the pungent odor of smelling salts hit her concussion-addled brain. Bastards, she thought bitterly, couldn't they just leave her be for five minutes.

"Welcome back, Miss David," Skinny said conversationally. "I'm assuming you still don't want to sign this confession of all your crimes?" In response, Ziva just spit some blood from her mouth onto the floor. "I'll take that as a 'no.'" A glare in his direction. "We'll try something different then, hmm. We'll start at the very beginning, with the first person whose death you are responsible for." Gently, he placed a photo within reach of her fingertips; she drew the photo towards her, running a finger delicately over the face of a smiling young girl. Her breath hitched in her throat, as she tried to reign in her emotions.

"She was waiting for you at the café; you never came. You were what? Making out with a boy behind your school theater?" An ugly sneer appeared on the man's face, "Poor Tali, dead because of her sister's mistakes."

Ziva attempted, even handcuffed as she was, to lunge across the table separating her from her interrogator. A quick punch to her kidney from Lucco stopped her attempt short. The wiry man gave her a tight smile as he reached into his briefcase to pull out a sheet of lined paper. "Let's make a list, shall we? Of all the people who have died as a result of your actions; of all your victims. Now, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and not include the assassinations you conducted that were directly commissioned by the Mossad. We'll assume most of those individuals needed killing." He laughed a bit, "It'd be a pretty long list, otherwise. It probably still will, now won't it?" He paused for a moment, Ziva had returned to staring at the picture of her younger sister Tali. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, Miss David." The man glanced at Lucco; another kidney shot.

"I'm sorry, I am having trouble concentrating with Tweedle Dumb here beating on me every few minutes." Another hit, this one to the ribs.

"I'm still waiting for an answer," the man said patiently, as if speaking to a small petulant child.

"Uh, what was the question again?" _Slap!_ A cuff to the ear, which made her head ring.

Calmly, "Will it be a long list, of those you've killed?"

Ziva chuckled mirthlessly, "You know, I never thought you Americans had it in you, to beat a confession out of someone. I had you all pegged as gutless." An elbow to the mouth from Lucco; Ziva spit blood and a tooth onto her lap. She focused on the tooth and probed her gum line for the new gap, until another cuff to the ear got her attention back. She spit some more blood, "Aw, see, now I'm going to need dental work." Oh, shit, Gibbs thought darkly, Ziva seemed to be streaming her inner smartass. Lucco's fist to her face sent blood gushing out of her already broken nose; now it would need to be set again. Ziva looked genuinely dazed at that one, seeing as she already had a concussion. She coughed out some more blood, as she blinked rather rapidly in an attempt to regain her bearings.

When she did, she sent a smirk at Lucco, "Makes you feel like a real man, doesn't it? Hitting a woman?" She nodded her head and waggled her eyebrows, as if daring him to agree with her. Lucco's boot raking down her shin and onto her bare foot was his answer.

"Please answer the question, Miss David," the man asked in a kind voice.

She glared at him, "Or what? You'll go 'bad cop,' too? You spineless bastard." The chop of a hand against her throat left her sputtering for air. "No," she said quietly. Another hit to the kidney, this time she cried out, "Shit! I answered your damn question! No, it won't be a long list."

This time Lucco made the effort to smack the cast of her broken arm so hard onto the table as to crack the plaster upon impact. Ziva's scream of anguish filled the small room, followed by the sounds of her dry-heaving. She had nothing to vomit up except stomach acid and blood, her body shaking with the effort. Her toes even curled in pain as her body tightened in on itself as much as it could with the restraints. "Yes," she whimpered as waves of agony crashed over her. She didn't even raise her head.

Unperturbed, the man said, "Yes, what?"

Ziva flinched, in expectation of a blow that never came; Lucco wandering just behind her menacingly. "Yes, it will be a long list," she ground out between clenched teeth.

"Very good, Miss David, you're learning," he said patronizingly. He moved the piece of lined paper, along with a pen, next to her hand, while Lucco uncoiled her body and forced her to sit up in the chair. "Start on the first line, please." When she did nothing, Lucco made a show of grasping her broken arm again. She picked up the pen and slowly wrote 'Talia David' on the top line. She dropped the pen in disgust with herself.

The man riffled through his brief case, while studying the woman before him. She had finally cooperated with them. Nothing actionable of course, no one would really care that she blamed herself for the death of her sister who died at the hands of a Hamas suicide bombing. She probably knew that too and was just saving herself some pain. But it was still cooperation and eventually they'd make it back to the real matter at hand, but she needed to be broken down further before that happened. Shuffling some more papers, he found the file he wanted, "Now," he paused for dramatic effect, "snipers aren't supposed to miss are they?" He laid out a photo of a small girl, no older than ten, half of her face blown off.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Here's the next short part. Thanks so much for the reviews and support. Liz, no slow and painful deaths in this chapter for the interrogators and ninjagirl, I'm glad I could get that creepy sort of writing, that's what I was pretty much going for. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

* * *

Chapter 7

"Gibbs, why is this happening?" Abby asked Gibbs morosely, during a quiet moment in the lab. Gibbs quickly enveloped her in a fatherly hug, the familiar smells of bourbon and sawdust filling the lab tech's senses.

"Power. Mulroney wants it and he thinks Ziva's his chance to seize it. That's why we're down here, instead of the bullpen. DiNozzo was threatened with obstruction when Ziva was taken to interrogation if we interfered in any way."

"I know, otherwise you'd have busted down that door to interrogation hours ago. But why can't Jenny do something? She's the director of NCIS."

Gibbs pulled the young Goth in tighter, resting his chin on her head. "Not right now, she isn't."

* * *

By 3 am Tuesday morning, Special Agent Sara Harrigan's team had gathered in Abby's lab along with the remaining members of Team Gibbs including Abby, Ducky, and even Jimmy Palmer. Tony experienced a moment of déjà vu to a similar clandestine meeting in Ducky's autopsy suite over a year prior. He was just waiting for Jimmy to ask to be called 'Black Lung' again.

Once all parties involved had arrived at Abby's, Gibbs had explained that this op would be strictly off-the-books and voluntary. It was a given that Team Gibbs was all in and soon after seeing Ziva being interrogated, Team Harrigan was in, too.

Junior Agent Debbie Wilson was almost a dead ringer for Ziva. She was a little taller, but had similar hair and olive-skinned complexion. By a little after 7 am, Gibbs had laid out the vague beginnings of a plan, while Ducky and Abby had done their parts to make Wilson look the part. The young agent now sported a full-arm cast, bandaged thigh, complete with leg brace and crutch, courtesy of Ducky. When Abby was done with Debbie, the young woman had enough gory make-up on to look like Ziva had only a day ago, including a bloody looking eye.

When Debbie came out of Abby's office, Agent Eric Farnsworth gave a whistle and commented, "Whew, Debs, you look like shit!" No one laughed and Tony sent the young man a look that could kill. DiNozzo's partner was currently being beaten by the very agency they all worked for and now looked much worse for real than Debbie ever would. Senior Field Agent Oliver Dunham just gave his probie a glare that told the younger man he'd better shut-up and quick.

McGee handed Debbie an earwig and Ziva's cell phone, which she slipped into a pair of Ziva's cargo pants. Gibbs left no details to chance and Tony had retrieved a set of clothing from Ziva's apartment earlier that morning. Debbie carefully put the earwig in and then shook out her long, dark locks, which were now approximately the same length as Ziva's, thanks to a quick haircut by her team leader, Harrigan. Debbie Wilson was now practically a body double for Ziva David.

Sara Harrigan beamed proudly as she surveyed the final effect. A shit-eating grin appeared on her face, as she chewed her ever-present Bubblicious gum. She laughed jovially as she mussed a hand through Gibbs' hair, "Not quite as easy as the haircuts I used to give you in FLETC; Marine high-and-tight is much easier, but it'll do." Gibbs just swatted her hand away from his head, shooting her an irritated look, as the younger woman just laughed. "No gray back then, either. Ha ha ha." One last playful ruffle before turning serious. Each team's members looked at their respective leaders like they were both going senile.

Everyone finished putting on their bullet-proof vests with the exceptions of Tony, Debbie, and Abby, who had the unenviable task of monitoring and recording the goings on in Interrogation Room 2. At the first sign of Ziva signing or making any confessionary statements, Abby was to call Jenny and have the Director interfere somehow. Barring that, Abby could also take out the power to the building, but that was not preferable, since it would likely just mean they would move Ziva further out of reach. If what Gibbs suspected was written on that tempting sheet of paper that had been sitting in front of Ziva for the last seven hours was even half-right, Jenny would be saving both women's careers by preventing Ziva from signing it. As of yet, it didn't seem like Ziva was much tempted by the glimmering promise the sheet offered of an escape from her current circumstances. Gibbs knew time was still of the essence, though, despite Ziva's Mossad training. Being a trained interrogator and withstanding prolonged interrogation were two different things, entirely.

"Let's go!" Gibbs barked once everyone was ready. Each small group (Ducky, Palmer, Dunham; McGee, Farnsworth; Gibbs, Harrigan; and finally, the bait, DiNozzo with Wilson) headed out quietly and at random intervals from Abby's domain, so as not to arouse too much suspicion from the San Diego agents.

When at last Tony and Debbie headed out, Abby morosely turned her attention back to the drama unfolding in the interrogation room. Ziva's groans of pain as flesh impacted flesh were not something Abby would be able to block out in the near future.

* * *

Ziva had no idea how long she'd been sequestered in interrogation. Her internal clock told her it was probably Tuesday by now, but she really couldn't even be sure of that. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more exhausted or in more agony. And every damn time she zoned out or nodded off Lucco's foot or fist would get her attention again. Thankfully, the bastard seemed to be getting tired, as his hits didn't seem to hurt as bad. Either that or she was just getting number. At the very least, he'd stopped abusing her broken arm awhile ago; he probably suspected she'd just pass out if he persisted. As it was, the damned useless thing was sending off waves of pain in time with the beat of her heart.

_Smack!_

Shit, she had to blink back the stars that appeared before her eyes. She'd zoned out again. Skinny's patience seemed to be wearing thin. Lucco just looked bored. Guess beating a defenseless woman wasn't as much fun as he'd thought it'd be. She chuckled to herself at that; the bastard.

Wait, now Skinny was looking back at the observation window expectantly.

"You may proceed," a voice said ominously over the speaker. Well, that didn't sound very good. And now Lucco was leaving the room, but damn if she couldn't even keep her head up anymore. Her chin dropped to her chest.

Whoa! Cool metal slid along her calf and up her leg. Ziva's heart began beating rapidly against her ribcage. They were cutting her pant leg. Must be to re-bandage her gunshot wound, yeah that was all, nothing to worry about. After all, it was bleeding all down her leg again thanks to Lucco's ministrations. Ziva's eyes shut again.

* * *

It was now well after ten in the morning on Tuesday and Lucco had been beating the David woman pretty heavily since the middle of the night. Her face was still recognizable because he'd had to lay off smacking her in the head for fear of her concussion worsening. As it was, the woman could barely put together two words anymore. He'd been surprised by her resilience, though; they hadn't gotten anything remotely useful as a confession out of her. A list of five names, all of which were useless because the U.S. had no jurisdiction, was all they had gotten after hours of interrogation. For the last two hours, they'd been hung up on Caitlin Todd and Ari Haswari.

He'd broken one of her fingers, dislocated and relocated a few of her joints, and cracked a few ribs, among using pressure points and pain holds. He'd left her right arm and hand alone in the hope that she'd sign the damn confession. Aside from when he'd re-broken her arm early on, she hadn't screamed once. Everything he did after that would heal eventually. He took pride that he didn't just mangle people to the point they became disfigured or disabled. But still he couldn't figure out what she was holding onto.

Lucco almost felt bad for the semi-conscious woman handcuffed to the chair. But only almost, she was a terrorist after all. Maybe not like any other terrorist he'd ever interrogated, but a terrorist none the less.

According to her dossier, she was like a triple agent or something: Mossad, NCIS, terrorist. He didn't really understand most of it, but the gist was she was directly responsible for the destruction of the Naval Intelligence building a few days ago, among other things. She and some other guy named 'Nigel' were at fault, but somehow he got away and she got shot and beat to shit in the process of escaping. The details were more his colleague's forte, while he was just the brute force. Normally, they would have preferred a friendlier interrogation method. It was more reliable, but took much longer and they weren't going for intelligence information anyway. For some reason, they were on a time crunch for this case and it had been decided progressively more aggressive methods would be used the longer the interrogation took. Lucco and his partner weren't calling the shots on this one.

Lucco wished David would just confess already. It seemed like all the evidence was there anyhow and her confession was just a formality. She had spirit, which he and his compatriot were in the process of breaking. He had a weird feeling about this one, though, as if they didn't have the whole picture. But someone with pull and influence wanted this confession enough to bring the CIA into another agency's backyard.

He sighed heavily, as he began cutting the other pant leg. He always hated this next part, the screams were always so loud.

* * *

A/N: I've got the next part almost ready to go, so it shouldn't be too long before another update. Reviews are always welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

Here's the latest installment. Oh, and I don't think I've mentioned it before, but I don't own anything, if that already wasn't obvious. I'm just taking the team out for a spin. On that note, I am going to hurt Ziva a lot more this chapter, but it's all to set the stage for a scene in the next chapter that I really enjoyed writing. So sorry about whumping on Ziver a little more, but here you go...

* * *

Chapter 8

Ziva shivered as cool air hit against her bare stomach. She opened her eyes a crack to see that the jeans she'd been wearing had been completely cutoff now, Abby's 'DeathHead' t-shirt laying in shreds on top of it. She was infinitely glad that Ducky had helped her put a bra and panties on before she'd been whisked away from his office however many hours ago. Sitting there in nothing but her underwear and a cracked cast was bad enough…

She jerked awake again, as a roughly callused hand brushed against the inside of her thighs, then each side of her abdomen, both of her armpits, and finally the barest tickle on the arches of her feet. It was becoming harder and harder to stay conscious and aware, the concussion and exhaustion putting her brain into a haze.

* * *

Abby Sciuto had been crying on and off the last few hours ever since Debbie and Tony had left. Only a few times, she had actually cheered when Ziva won some small victory, like when she'd managed to tear up the sheet of names. They'd just made her make a new one, but it was a small triumph. In the mean time, Abby had been trying to focus enough to run down some electronic leads on the Lincoln case, but it had been hard to do with Ziva being beaten on her center screen; and she was recording it all.

"Aha! Gotcha!" She'd just broken through the first security barrier on Major Lincoln's hard drive. The forensic specialist's joy was short-lived as she realized she hadn't heard much from Ziva in awhile. Glancing at the center monitor, her eyes grew wide in alarm. Stripped down, Ziva's lithe body lay listless, as Lucco attached electrical leads to the woman's groin, abdomen, armpits, and the bottom of each foot. The other man just looked on dispassionately.

Abby grabbed her cell phone off the table and hit speed dial number 1.

"Gibbs," the senior agent picked up after one ring.

"Electro-shock, Gibbs, they're going to use electro-shock!"

* * *

They'd been doing surveillance for almost four hours when Gibbs cursed, "Shit," as he put the phone away. Sara Harrigan sent him a concerned look from the passenger seat of Gibbs' vehicle. They'd opted to use their personal cars to run surveillance from, as they looked for somebody staking out their imposter 'Ziva.' Debbie and Tony had been moving about Ziva's neighborhood all morning, going to the grocery store, picking up pain meds at the pharmacy, now having lunch at an outdoor café. So far only a few false starts, but no joy on their mystery photographer/stalker.

After a moment, Gibbs filled Sara in on the news, "Electro-shock."

"Shit," the younger woman echoed Gibbs' earlier sentiments. "I've been tased before; that was awful enough."

He gave her an incredulous look, "When the hell have you ever been tased?"

Sara cleared her throat self-consciously, "Uhm, let's just say that I'm banned from Fenway Park for life and leave it at that. Not exactly my proudest moment."

Any further conversation was cut short when McGee's voice came over the radio, "I've got a possible suspect, my 10 o'clock. Gray Ford Taurus, was at the super market, too. Long-range camera in the front seat, something in his hand, can't tell what it is. No visual on his face." Debbie and Tony were in the café down the block from Ziva's apartment. McGee and Farnsworth were each on a roof, covering the area from different angles.

"Anybody else have a visual?" All negatives to Gibbs' query. "Alright, Harrigan will move down the sidewalk, see if that's our guy. Dunham, start moving down the other way to cover her."

Harrigan got out and started moving down the sidewalk towards the Taurus, Dunham moving in from across the park. As she got closer, she quietly described what she was seeing, "Okay, camera's on the passenger seat. He's got binoculars, looks like fixed on the café."

Sara stopped talking as she passed by the passenger door. The suspect's back was to her, so she glanced back over her shoulder and into the cab. On the center console appeared to be a GPS locator. She looked a little closer at the screen, the roads matched their current surroundings and a little red blinking dot corresponded perfectly with Tony and Debbie's position.

"It's him." Just then, the man turned back in toward the cab and their gazes met. "I'm made," was all Sara got out.

"Harrigan's down," Farnsworth screamed from his position on the roof.

Their suspect tried to jam his car into gear for a quick getaway, but with a squeal of tires, Gibbs managed to box him in with his own vehicle. The man quickly climbed across to the passenger side of his vehicle to make a quick exit, jumping over Harrigan in the process.

Gibbs slid across the hood of the car, in hot pursuit. "Suspect's on foot, crossing the park," Farnsworth called out. Dunham was trying to close in from the left. The suspect was outpacing them across the field. Suddenly, out of nowhere a blue mini-van came careening over the grass, hitting the suspect from the side, the man rolling off the hood as Dunham and Gibbs caught up. Facing down the barrels of two loaded weapons and the grim-faced men behind them, the man quickly put his hands up in surrender.

Gibbs allowed Agent Dunham the honors of cuffing the man. Jimmy poked his head out from behind the wheel of the mini-van, "I have _always_ wanted to do that!" Ducky sat in the passenger seat, looking like he'd had enough excitement for the day.

"What? Run somebody over with your car?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I was going to say participate in a real police chase, but that works too, Agent Gibbs." Palmer had the biggest grin on his face. Gibbs just shook his head at the young man.

Gibbs walked back toward the sidewalk where DiNozzo and Wilson were helping Sara Harrigan get up off the pavement. She opened her outer jacket, two shiny slugs over her heart spaced an inch apart. She lightly fingered each bullet. "Well, at least we know he can shoot." Thank God for bullet-proof vests. "Ow, I think I might've broken a rib."

* * *

Mossad Officer Ziva David had no idea what was coming the first time the electrical current ripped through her body. Muscles contracted, tightened, as her body jerked with the force. She bit down so hard on her own tongue that her mouth filled immediately with the coppery taste of her own blood.

Her body was left twitching and quivering in the aftereffects of the shock, but her mind was a little sharper and alert than before. The feeling would not last for long, however, as exhaustion still tried to catch up to her.

Her interrogator was finally getting impatient with her, speaking to her like she was a small child. She'd given them five names, so far, but nothing of value, just her own mistakes and misplaced guilt written down in her own fluid handwriting; none were Americans and their deaths hadn't been on American soil. That was probably why the man was so hung up on Caitlin Todd and Ari Haswari, working his way back to the issue of 'Nigel,' she supposed.

A chilling scream tore from between blood-stained lips as electricity soared through Ziva's body a second time. Muscles clamped down around already broken bones, the cuffs digging into her already tender flesh as she strained against the sharp metal of the restraints, toes curling and lifting off the floor, as her body involuntarily coiled in on itself. When the current finally stopped flowing through her, she was left gasping for breath, muscles still convulsing without command. To Ziva's utter humiliation, the next sensation she became aware of was a new warmth and wetness between her thighs. To her disgust, the dark amber liquid mingled with the blood still seeping from her bullet wound. A single tear escaped and made a sad lonely track down her face as Ziva fought for emotional control, even as she couldn't control her own bladder. She didn't have much time to dwell as another wave of agony overtook her.

* * *

Forensic Specialist Abigail Sciuto was never really one to keep her emotions inside, but she surprised even herself at the sound of glass shattering as a beaker, thankfully empty of any sort of evidence, impacted the back wall of her lab. The sounds of Ziva's cries and screams echoed softly about the room, Abby's heart breaking a little more at each new pain her Israeli friend endured. Shocked at her own outburst, the Goth quietly wiped at the tears streaming down her face and took a few deep breaths to calm her fraying nerves. She took one final deep breath, imagined Gibbs to be there, smartly came to attention, and saluted crisply. That done, she turned back to the late Major Lincoln's hard drive, intent on cracking through the next cyber barrier.

* * *

As much as it pained him to do so, Gibbs left the arrest and interrogation of their mystery photographer/spy in the capable hands of Sara Harrigan and her team. His team was supposedly on stand-down and under investigation, despite the fact that the only one Patrick Mulroney seemed to be interested in was Ziva David. No, they needed this to go cleanly and if that meant backing off while this played out, he'd do it. He was just thankful that so far his team hadn't been missed by the San Diego agents that had taken over his bullpen.

So, on arriving back at the Navy Yard, Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee had headed down to Abby's to offer her support and another Caf-Pow. Ducky and Palmer departed to Autopsy, as there was always more work to do there; Jimmy still had a grin on his face, adrenaline no doubt running through his veins still from the earlier chase. And Harrigan's team snuck off to Interrogation Room 4 to question their new suspect. It would be a by-the-book interrogation, so it would hold up to scrutiny if needed.

No music was Gibbs' first thought on entering Abby's lab. Even earlier, while they'd been using the space as their clandestine headquarters, there had been at least a subtle techno or rock beat in the background, but now nothing. Gibbs took in the broken glass on the floor, Abby hunched over one of her keyboards working fiercely, and the sound of Ziva screaming in pain that broke his heart. He wished he hadn't left Abby alone to witness the Mossad officer's agony. Initially, he had never thought they'd go even as far as beating a confession out of Ziva, much less employing electro-shock torture to her already frail body. Another particularly gut-wrenching cry of pain broke him from his thoughts, so he made a bee-line over to the Goth seated in the center of the lab. Placing the massive caffeine drink on the table in front of her, Gibbs gathered the younger woman into his arms, while she held him as if her life depended on it. Tony and McGee wandered quietly into the room, trying not to intrude.

"What've you got Abs?" Gibbs finally broke the silence. Abby pulled away from him as she gathered her composure. He signed a quick 'Are you okay?' to her in ASL.

She nodded an affirmative before answering his previous question, "Nothing new, Gibbs. I'm still trying to break Major Lincoln's hard drive; this thing's got more security protocols than Fort Knox."

"McGee, help her with that," Gibbs said gruffly, while turning back to the monitors that dominated the room. "And pull up Interrogation Room 4. I want to know how Harrigan's doing in there."

McGee opened his mouth like he wanted to say something as he gazed upon the latest horror befalling Ziva. Fear, pity, desperation all passed over his face, but no words came to mind. Abby touched his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of support and they quickly set off to their task, while Tony came to stand next to his supervisor. "What do we do now, boss?"

Gibbs took a quick look at his senior field agent, taking in the bags under his eyes and the hard set of his jaw, two days' worth of stubble giving him a rough look. "Now? Now we wait, DiNozzo." Any witty retort that he'd expected never came, as the younger man looked at his partner on the screen. Under any other circumstances, seeing the woman in naught but her underwear would have at least elicited a wicked, boyish grin. But now, with her once-golden body turned pale, a sheen of sweat soaking her and matting her hair to face, she looked vulnerable, fragile even. Two words he never thought he'd associate with his tough-as-nails cohort.

_Everyone breaks under torture, Tony._ She'd told him that once, only deathly seriousness in her voice.

He'd laughed a bit, _Even crazy Mossad ninja chicks?_ He'd been trying to get a rise out of her.

She hadn't look at him when she'd answered, her mind in some far off place. He'd barely heard her when she'd whispered, _Yes.

* * *

_

Reviews are always welcome. :) I've got work for the next few days and then Christmas break to finish the next chapter. Don't worry, things will eventually get better for the team. - Flygirl


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry to take so long with posting, but here's the next installment. You can thank a sweet snow day that I had from work today! I just love snow days. I've been writing a bit and watching movies, as well as reading some fanfiction. If anybody out there enjoys JAG or CSI: Miami, I definitely recommend incatnito, her work is just awesome...and you always get a great vocabulary lesson too. Anyway, please enjoy.

Chapter 9

Special Agent Sara Harrigan sat a little stiffly at the table, a massive bruise was blossoming on her chest where she likely had a few cracked ribs. The man sitting across from her fidgeted slightly, while Oliver Dunham's intimidating form leaned casually against the back corner of the interrogation room observing with his arms crossed tight across his chest. Sara inspected the high-powered camera in her hands, tilting it this way and that before discovering the 'On' button. She took her time scrolling through the hundreds of photos stored on the memory card. The main theme was clear: Ziva. There were photos of her in her apartment, at crime scenes, even photos of a lunch that Ziva had taken Sara up on over a month prior. She continued perusing the photos for another minute before picking up a Commonwealth of Virginia driver's license.

"So, Mister," reading the card, "John Smith. That can't actually be your real name. No one actually names their kids that do they? John Smith. Not very creative. No matter, we'll find out who you really are once we run your prints. Guy like you is bound to have some priors." She paused, as if thinking about what she would say next, "See, here's the deal, we've got you for the unregistered handgun, the unlawful silencer, resisting arrest, attempted murder of a federal agent, and based on these photos," indicating the camera and clucking her tongue, "I'm betting I can make the case for espionage." Sara bit back a grimace as she twisted around towards Dunham conversationally, "Hey, Ollie, what's the going rate these days for traitors?"

Dunham glowered menacingly at their subject from the corner, "Pretty sure it's still the needle, Agent Harrigan."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too."

Smith ran a hand nervously through his hair, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Lady, you've got this all wrong. I was working for you, for NCIS."

Truly intrigued, Harrigan turned her full attention to Smith, "Why would NCIS hire you? To what, spy on one of its own agents?"

"Look, all I was told was to follow and document the movements of that woman in the photos, Ziva David. I don't even know what I was supposed to be looking for. Every week, I make a dead drop with everything I've collected to the south trash can on the platform for the blue line at the Metro Center stop, just before the 5 o'clock evening train on Fridays. Then on Saturday, I receive a wire transfer to my account; three grand a week."

"How long?"

"Over thirteen months." This man had been tailing Ziva for over a year and she hadn't even realized; guess the man was worth the money. His next words sent a chill down Harrigan's spine. "Now, I like to know who I'm working for, so I did some digging on my own. I can trace the wire transfers back to the office of Patrick Mulroney. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't he, what, the number two chicken in your agency's pecking order?"

* * *

A strangled sob escaped Ziva's lips; if only they understood, they would leave her alone. "He was my brother. Ari was my brother and I killed him to save Gibbs." Suddenly all the grief she had been hanging onto for three years welled to the surface, as tears made tracks down her face. A cry sounded as if from a wounded animal, "I killed my brother! I killed Ari; not Gibbs." Ziva began weeping openly, as her body shook with emotion. She quieted down to barely a whisper, "I killed him. I could not save him. I'm so sorry Tali. I'm so sorry."

Equally shocked and confused looks passed between the interrogators at Ziva's outburst, as Ziva devolved into muttering, presumably apologies, in Hebrew. After a moment of stunned silence, the thin, wiry man began riffling through a folder he'd grabbed from his briefcase. It fell open to a picture of Ari Haswari's dead body and Gibbs' after-action report. The man seemed to hesitate, processing this new information, before clearing his throat.

"Special Agent Gibbs reported that he shot Ari Haswari in self-defense after Haswari admitted his crimes." Oddly, a note of compassion had entered the man's voice and his expression conveyed that for the first time since he'd entered that room, he wanted the story from Ziva's perspective. He was doubting the information he had been told; doubting his conviction that Ziva David was a traitor and a terrorist. His eyes found Ziva's to implore her to contradict his statement.

It took awhile for her to collect herself, but when she finally began speaking, Ziva's voice had an eerie, detached quality. Her gaze locking on the interrogator's as she fought to rein in her emotions. "I was there, with Gibbs that night, hoping my brother would prove him wrong. But instead, he admitted to being a traitor to Mossad and to Israel. He assassinated Agent Todd and he intended to kill Gibbs because Gibbs reminded him of our father. I would not have believed it if I had not heard his confession myself." She swallowed hard. "I shot Ari from the top of the stairs in the basement before he could shoot Gibbs."

"So you're saying Special Agent Gibbs filed a false report? Why would he do that?"

"Gibbs claimed he killed Ari to protect me from those at Mossad who would not appreciate my killing their mole in Hamas. He falsified the report to shield me from repercussions from my father, the Director of Mossad."

* * *

Stunned and shocked looks passed between McGee, Tony, and Abby. Ari was Ziva's brother? Each member of the team looked to Gibbs, each silently demanding answers, but he had an unreadable expression on his face. Finally he turned to them, saying simply, "Rule number four," before ignoring them again. _The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person—if you must. There is no third best._ Accepting that answer for now, they all went back to waiting.

* * *

Gibbs hated waiting. Gibbs and Harrigan's teams had done all that they could do, short of storming up to interrogation and breaking Ziva out. It was up to the Director now. As the day had given way to early evening, he'd tried to send his team, as well as Ducky, Jimmy, and Abby, home for some rest, but to their credit they'd blatantly refused. Then they'd been joined by Harrigan's team after they'd gotten John Smith squared away in a holding cell. Harrigan herself was still declining the visit to the hospital for her ribs, claiming she'd had worse and that there were just some things you just had to see through. Abby's lab felt crowded with the ten people waiting, watching, and each in their own way, supporting the absent women who would've made them an even dozen. Jenny was fighting the political battle, while Ziva struggled with the ongoing mental and physical one. Each of the ten hoped and prayed that Jenny was successful in her endeavor so they could relieve Ziva of the weight of both women's lives and careers that were hanging in the balance. So they waited, together.

* * *

Secretary of the Navy, the Honorable William Alexander Schmidt entered his Falls Church residence to find an unusual quietness about the place. Odd, normally he was greeted by his wife or at least Henry, the butler.

"Josephina? Henry?" he called out to the eerie stillness. A single lamp flickered on in the study. Curiosity overcoming him, the Secretary moved cautiously from the foyer and into the adjoining room, removing his overcoat along the way. Closing the heavy rosewood doors behind him, he tossed his jacket over the unoccupied armchair.

"You've been avoiding me, William."

"That's because NCIS is political suicide right now, Jen." He settled himself into the soft-cushioned chair across from the petite red-haired woman in the matching one. "I see you've found my bottle of Glenfiddich."

Jenny Shepard took a sip of the amber scotch, savoring the rich flavors, before setting the glass aside. "I want my agency back, Mr. Secretary."

Schmidt gave her a long-suffering sigh, as he poured himself a glass of scotch. Looking at the label, he said wistfully, "I was saving this for a special occasion."

Jenny calmly clicked a remote in her hand; the television in the side-wall behind her flickered to life. Ziva's anguished screams filled the silence in the room, as a tape of the interrogation played. Schmidt shifted uneasily in his chair, as his gut clenched uncomfortably, "She's a foreign operative and Mulroney will stand behind the Patriot Act. From what I've gathered, she's a traitor to your agency, to this country."

Jenny remained stone-faced as she watched her superior struggle with what he was witnessing on the screen behind her. When she figured he'd seen enough, she tossed a file folder into the man's lap. Thankful for the distraction, he quickly flipped through the contents. A lab result from Ms. Abigail Sciuto concerning Officer Ziva David, August 17th, positive for Rohypnol; medical reports from Bethesda on Saturday evening: GSW right thigh, broken ulna, olecranon fracture, nasal bone fracture, cracked zygomatic bone, grade II concussion; copies of the x-rays, clearly showing the damage; and finally the transcript of Harrigan's interview of John Smith, dated that very day. He pored over the last document with a troubled look on his face.

"I have the video of John Smith's interrogation, if that would make it easier to swallow."

The Secretary met Jenny Shepard's unwavering eyes, "That won't be necessary." He looked at the interrogation playing out on the television and back to the file in his hands. "You realize, you are asking me to fall on my sword?"

"William, I am asking you to do the right thing. I don't know who's pressuring you or what they have on you, but I need you to give me the authority to send Mulroney back to San Diego. I'll need to compile more evidence to do anything legal against him, but for now, I need your special appointment rescinded and I'm not leaving until that happens."

Schmidt swallowed hard, as thoughts flashed through his brain at a million miles per hour. His political aspirations, his reputation, his honor, his integrity, as cries and moans of pain echoed around the room, from a young woman he had never met. He swirled the tawny alcohol in his glass before raising it slowly to his lips. The smoky flavor of the alcohol burned its way down his throat and into his stomach. He finished the drink before returning his solemn gaze to Jenny's determined one. "I assume you already have the paperwork and just need my signature."

* * *

I had some trouble with writing this chapter, but I do really like the last scene; I hope you enjoyed it too. Things will be looking up for the team in the next chapter! Back to writing then.-Flygirl


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Okay, finally the next installment. I do so apologize for how long this took to get up. You can mostly thank Comcast for me not having any internet for the last month-plus. Add in a move halfway across the country and stories just don't get updated. But you can also thank the move for most of this chapter, since I seem to be really inspired when I drive and write...weird huh? I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter 10

Officer David could barely raise her head anymore from sheer exhaustion, but the order to continue the interrogation came directly from Mulroney. So the CIA men continued even with the doubts blossoming in their minds. There was almost no point anymore; Ziva was becoming more incoherent by the minute and still they made no headway.

Suddenly, without warning, Gibbs and Tony burst into the interrogation room. Gibbs making a beeline for Ziva, while Tony quickly had Lucco shoved up against a wall. The thin man rose to his feet in protest, "You can't be in here!" Gibbs just shoved a piece of paper in his direction, while pulling the electrical leads from Ziva's body. She made a small whimpering sound, as he released her from the handcuffs and ankle restraints. Deftly transferring his jacket to around her shoulders, Gibbs gently put a hand under her chin, "Can you open your eyes, Ziver?" She rewarded him by cracking open the eye that hadn't swollen shut.

A small smile graced Ziva's lips as she whispered hoarsely, "Gibbs, you…you came." Relief flooded her system and she promptly passed out. Gibbs scooped up her small form, careful of her injuries, and swiftly carried her from the room.

"You'd better hope she's okay, or I'll find you." Tony gave Lucco another hard shove, before following Gibbs out.

* * *

Behind the glass of the interrogation room, Director Shepard had the distinct pleasure of kicking Assistant Director Patrick Mulroney out on his ass. With a few choice words, he was soon departing the building fuming between two security officers. McGee and Harrigan's team riding herd on the San Diego agents had the headquarters speedily reclaimed for those that belonged there. Now she had an agency to clean-up and run.

* * *

Ziva's eyes fluttered open. Her body ached, but the pain was down to a dull roar. And she was warm, it felt like it had been so long since she'd been warm.

As the Israeli took in the unfamiliar ceiling, a slight panic started to rise in her chest. Her other senses began to kick in; the faint smell of sawdust and bourbon on the air, and the whisper of rough paper running with the grain, back and forth, back and forth. Ziva's breathing began to calm, her eyelids becoming heavy with drowsiness. Safe, protected, she relaxed back into sleep.

* * *

Ziva struggled to open her eyes. Her body felt leaded and unresponsive. Her arm was throbbing in time with her heart, every other ache and pain making itself known. A moan escaped from between clenched teeth.

A pair of white pills and a glass of water entered her field of view, as Tony DiNozzo hovered over her. She quelled her astonishment, in favor of a grimace, at seeing the younger man instead of Gibbs. Nonetheless, she gratefully accepted the pills with their promise of pain-free, drugged-out oblivion.

He helped her to sit up, letting her sip some water to wash the capsules down. When she finished, Tony laid her back down on the bed, with a gentleness that surprised the young woman. He quietly arranged the comforter, effectively tucking her in, as she drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next time Ziva awoke, Dr. Donald Mallard's soft Scottish brogue reached her ears, "Ah, my dear, how nice to finally see those beautiful eyes of yours."

"What…," was all Ziva managed before the dryness in her throat dissolved into a cough. The elderly doctor offered a glass of water and two more of those magical white pills. The Mossad officer accepted his help with the water, but begged off taking the painkillers, opting for a clear head. Knowing her better than she thought, the ME put the pills away instead producing two smaller ones.

"Tylenol," he answered her unasked question. These she accepted.

"What happened? How did I get here?" Ducky helped her sit up, when it became clear her stubbornness wouldn't let her speak to him lying down. He took his time arranging a pillow behind her back, as Ziva attempted to hide a grimace and hiss of pain.

"What's the last that you remember, my dear?" Ducky gently probed.

Ziva concentrated for a moment before responding, "The interrogation room…electric shock?" She held his gaze, the sorrow in his eyes confirming her memories. "Everything else is blurry, disorganized."

Over the next hour, Ducky tried to help fill in the gaps. He told her how Deputy Director Mulroney was already back in San Diego, temporarily suspended pending an inquiry headed by Jenny Shepard. The SecNav had ordered it before resigning seemingly out of the blue.

As for Ziva, after Gibbs had carried her unconscious form from the interrogation room, the team had brought her directly to Bethesda. There, the doctors and medical staff had x-rays and a CT scan ordered; they'd also re-set her left arm, placing it in a new cast, as well as patching up Ziva's various injuries.

Ducky expressed his shock that Ziva didn't remember waking up in the hospital room, claiming to be fine, and immediately demanding to be released. "I don't know where your aversion to hospitals stems from, my dear, but your doctors were not amused." Ducky explained, "So as a compromise to you sneaking out of Bethesda on your own and inevitably falling flat on your face, I am now responsible for your care. Tony wheeled you to the car, where you promptly passed out again. You have been asleep for most of the past 24 hours. Now, the first order of business will be some soup; you've not had anything besides a couple of IVs in the last few days."

"Actually, Doctor, I think the first order of business is a trip to the restroom."

"Giving orders about your care already, hmmm," Ducky ribbed good-naturedly, giving Ziva a smile to let her know he wasn't at all serious. "Do you want me to get Tony to carry you there?" His expression turned serious once again.

"No, no, I think we will manage it if I may just lean on your shoulder?"

"Of course, dear." As Doctor Mallard helped move the comforter out of the way, Ziva realized she was in her own pajamas. She was now thankful to own the pair of flannel PJs that were much more modest than her usual sleepwear; her infirmity was embarrassing enough in front of the well-mannered doctor. She didn't really care to think on how she had arrived to be wearing her own pajamas, but she was touched by the care and concern behind the gesture.

The M.E. helped the young Israeli to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed. Ziva's knees almost buckled upon standing, but Ducky was there to steady her, with an arm around her waist. As he helped Ziva limp the short distance to the bathroom, he was shocked by how frail and light the woman felt.

At the door to the bathroom, Ziva braced herself against the counter, "I have got it from here, Doctor."

"I'll tell Tony to start some soup, and then I'll be right outside if you need me," he said softly, shutting the door.

Ziva quickly took care of her needs and was soon washing her hands in the sink. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, one still almost swollen shut, were slightly sunken into her face, hollow and bloodshot. She traced a finger around a discoloration below her eye; the image of Nigel's boot breaking her cheekbone assaulted her. She felt her jaw, gingerly finding the gap in her molars with her tongue; Lucco's fist knocking her tooth out flashed by. Ziva lifted the flannel shirt. Her abdomen was littered with bruises; the kicks and punches that put them there played out in her mind. She took a shuddering breath, as she gently lifted the tape on a piece of gauze. The burn beneath it red and angry; the smell of electricity in the air, body rigid, unable to move, no control, nerves on fire, screaming, horrible screaming. Lost in her remembered pain, she didn't notice the tears begin streaming down her face.

* * *

Ducky returned from the kitchen, as promised, and was about to knock on the bathroom door, when he stopped. The sound of Ziva's quiet sobbing nearly broke his heart. The doctor had been witness to many misfortunes in his life and career, but this latest disaster to befall Ziva David saddened him deeply. No one deserved the amount of tragedy that that young woman had experienced.

The old man in him wanted to offer her comfort, but the psychologist in him knew that she just needed an outlet for her grief and outrage. And he knew later she wouldn't appreciate him witnessing what she perceived as weakness. So he would wait her out patiently.

The Scotsman spied Tony coming down the hall with the bowl of soup and moved to deftly head him off. If he thought she would be chagrined at him witnessing her breakdown, she definitely wouldn't welcome her charismatic partner interrupting her privacy. If and when Ziva wanted their support, she would ask. Until that time, he could at least care for her physical state.

After a time, only silence emanated from behind the door. Giving Ziva a few more moments, Ducky knocked lightly. Eventually, the door creaked inward to reveal Ziva sitting on the tile floor, leaned against a side wall. Only a slight puffiness around her eyes evidenced her breakdown minutes ago; barely noticeable with the bruises. Her emotional mask was firmly back in place.

"Tony has prepared some soup, if you feel up to eating something?"

Ziva was silently thankful he hadn't asked after her. She knew he had been outside the door for the tail end of her meltdown. "Is my crutch around here somewhere?" _Damn, stubborn woman_, Ducky thought as he retrieved the requested item. By the time he returned, she'd pulled herself off the floor and leaned heavily on the door. Knowing full well limping around on the crutch would cause her pain, the kindly medical examiner gave Ziva the crutch. Stubborn, pigheaded Ziva was infinitely preferable to pissed-off-at-Ducky Ziva. He made a note to himself to check the bandage under her arm where she'd just tucked the crutch. Soon she was off toward the kitchen. With a sigh, Doctor Mallard followed after her; he just hoped she didn't take a header down the stairs.

* * *

The late evening found Tony, McGee, Abby, and Director Sheppard seated around Gibbs' handmade dining table. Their host was noticeably absent.

"…oooh, I just wish we could make that man walk the plank, in the truest Naval tradition," Abby said with her typical exuberance. Whatever she was going to say next was lost when she saw her friend at the base of the stairs. "Ziva! You're awake." The Goth soon had the other woman in a gentle embrace, which the Israeli returned awkwardly. "We were so worried about you after we saw what that man Lucco did to you!"

Ziva visibly stiffened at her words, subtley withdrawing from the hug. Behind her, still on the stairs, she missed Ducky's grimace. Ziva took in Abby's guilty look and the furtive glances of those still seated around the table. "You saw?" the young woman asked, still slightly dumbfounded.

Ms. Abigail Sciuto, forensic-specialist and crime-solver extraordinaire, began to visibly panic under the questioning gaze of the Mossad officer. "Um, well, yeah, um…"

McGee finally took sympathy and answered for the Goth. "Abby had a back-door into the interrogation room camera system, so we witnessed the whole incident." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "…and it's all on DVD."

"Who is _we_?" Ziva took a step back. Her emotional control was slipping fast.

Young Timmy looked as if he might crumple under Ziva's intense gaze. So Tony took over, "The team, Abby obviously, Ducky and Jimmy, Agent Harrigan's team saw part of it, and the Director."

In the spirit of full disclosure, Jenny forged ahead, "And the SecNav…well _former_ SecNav." The room was so silent; one could've heard a pin drop.

The look on Ziva's face was one of disbelief, but soon morphed into anger. "Is there anyone who did not see it?" Awkward silence again reigned, as no one knew how to respond. A million different thoughts raced through Ziva's mind, but first and foremost was that the room suddenly seemed very suffocating. "Uh, I am not very hungry anymore." With that, Ziva hobbled back up the stairs as quickly as possible, taxing her already hurting body.

Tony moved to follow her, but a shake of the head from Ducky told the younger man that the medical examiner would handle Ziva. McGee moved to console Abby as the woman returned to the table. "She was going to find out at some point," he said, while rubbing a hand soothingly up and down her back.

"That doesn't mean it had to be right now," she responded bitterly.

* * *

Just her hasty dash up the stairs had left Ziva's muscles trembling. She collapsed in a ball of pain, every ache making itself known. In Mossad, Ziva had been trained in assassination, unarmed combat, and interrogation; she expertly exploited her enemy's every weakness.

Presently she felt the sting of betrayal by some unknown actor in Mossad. More importantly, the agency she had come to trust had questioned and tortured her, had attempted to make her their scapegoat. Every mistake and regret in her past had been picked at, dug through to reveal the still suppurating wounds on her conscience. Now to find out that her NCIS family, along with a few other whom she valued, had borne witness to her disgrace and weakness. What did they think of her now? How could they trust or respect her after learning all of her carefully hidden secrets? She would have to go back to Israel in shame. If she had had the strength, Ziva would have left right then; the people downstairs could go back to their lives, instead of being burdened by her out of pity.

The door to the bedroom creaked open. Assuming it was Doctor Mallard, Ziva didn't bother moving, keeping her back to the door. She heard the clink of, presumably, pain meds and a glass of water being set on the nightstand behind her.

"I do not want to talk about it, Ducky," Ziva stated, her voice husky with exhaustion. "You can go back to the kitchen if you want. I do not want your pity. I will go back to Israel when I am healthy enough to travel." She swallowed hard, as a single tear escaped her closed eyes.

The light rap to the back of her head startled Ziva. "You are mistaking compassion and love for pity," whispered Gibbs' gruff voice in her ear. He brushed some hair from her face and placed a tender kiss on her temple. "I expect you back at work when your medical leave is over." He left the room just as quietly as he'd entered it.

* * *

Okay, I was thinking of adding some Tiva, but then felt it might not fit very well (also, I'm not the best at writing anything resembling romance). Plus, I felt like Gibbs and Ziva needed to start healing a little, so I finished with that. One more chapter to go for this fic and then a sequel to start tying some loose ends. - Flygirl.


End file.
